Birds of a Feather
by Bloodpage-Alchemist
Summary: Harry said he didn't want to be human. Wish Granted. Now what is Professor Albus Dumbledore supposed to do?


_**A/N: Quick one-shot story, may expand if there's interest. Enjoy, leave a review if so inclined. Thanks!**_

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"_Then I don't want to be human!" _

Harry James Potter was fifteen and furious beyond himself. It was with good reason; his godfather, the closest thing he had to a parent, had just died because of a mistake he had made.

And his Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, a wise old wizard that Harry normally respected, had had the audacity to say that to feel such pain at the loss was what made him _human?_

The teenager could not contain his anger. He was making a mess of the Headmaster's usually pristine, fascinating office, full of portraits that were shouting at his destructive acts, and magical devices that whirred and clicked and shimmered brightly even in the gray light of dawn through the window. Harry had toppled a table, kicked the chair, hurled a lunascope at the wall and yet, the monster within him was not soothed in the least.

It was these seven fateful words that left his lips as he passed the little, quite ugly, chick that was Fawkes the Phoenix.

The last magical instrument left Harry's hand in his despair and fury, shattering into tiny little pieces on the floor. A flood of bright golden light surrounded the boy, blinding everyone else in the office. The portraits all gave shouts as they covered their eyes.

"Harry!"

Albus was very concerned and tried to help his student but he couldn't get close to the sheer amount of raw magic. What had happened?

The light faded.

Albus's breath hitched; Harry's body was laying on the ground.

"Harry?"

The Headmaster was very concerned and, as he cautiously approached the unconscious young man, the little chick that was his familiar twittering away in a way that sounded like it was panicking.

"Just a moment, Fawkes," said the man to the phoenix. Though he cared dearly for his familiar, he was quite worried about his student.

The boy on the floor finally opened his eyes, stirring and looking around. He seemed quite confused.

"Harry?" Albus asked this once more, trying to hide his apprehension, yet still express his concern as he touched the boy's shoulder.

The boy's head turned to look at him and his vivid emerald eyes lit up. "It's you!" He sat up, holding his head, but had not taken his eyes away from Albus. "You! Guardian!"

"I beg your pardon?" Albus had no idea what the boy meant.

"Look at you! Oh!" He finally stood up, smiling. "Farewell! No. Not farewell. What's the other one?" The boy furrowed his brow, thinking hard. "Words are so _strange_, aren't they? Not like songs." Here he gave a flap of his arms, frowning at them.

"Harry?" asked Albus, quite worried for his student's sanity. "Do you need the hospital wing?"

The boy looked up from his thinking, perking up. "Wings? Yes, please, I'd like that."

Dread filled Albus, and he used the basics of Legilimency to see what could be wrong with his student, seeing… nothing. It was as if the boy's mind was completely warded and that was worrying. Harry had not managed to master Occlumency, the magic of shielding one's mind, after all.

So how then were his thoughts protected?

"... Who are you?" Albus asked the question slowly, thinking over the brief but puzzling interaction thus far with the young man.

The boy looked as if Albus had struck him. "Do you not recognize me? Is it because I'm like this?" He indicated himself and looked at Albus pleadingly.

"Like… this?" Albus stared at him.

"But… but we've been together for decades! You don't know me?" Hurt, clear, undiluted hurt rippled in the bright green eyes. "Oh, when I find that thief… _there you are!"_

The boy moved, stumbling over his feet and flailing, as if trying desperately to keep his balance.

"Oh this is strange. Toes!"

He flapped his arms once more, making Albus very afraid for the boy's sanity as he quite awkwardly strode towards where Fawkes was. The chick was still chirping and hopping in place animatedly.

"Put us back!" The boy slammed both hands around the little chick and yelped, pulling his hands up to stare at them. "Ouch! Hands!"

Albus's eyes widened in terrible understanding as the little chick continued to chirp back. It couldn't be. This simply could not be.

"_Fawkes_?" He breathed it, dazed.

"_That's_ what you call me!" The boy stated it triumphantly, turning to look at Albus. "Because I explode!" He smiled, a dazzling bright one, relief flooding his face. "You _do_ recognize me, I knew you would!"

"Oh Merlin," muttered Albus before his bright blue eyes fixated on the little chick. "Harry?"

More frantic chirping and Albus Dumbledore could see the chick nodding the best it could, showing clear understanding.

"Oh dear…" murmured Albus, his eyes moving between the two.

"That's what happens when you throw magical instruments and don't know what they are," said a portrait sagely, shaking his head.

Albus simply sighed, looking skywards for a moment, before saying, "Thank you, Walter."

Worry swept through him.

This was madness. Albus stared at the ceiling still, feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders. Lord Voldemort had returned and now, the world knew it. Open war was on the horizon, a good man had already died. And now he had this to deal with.

Albus gave a slight jump as he felt arms wrap around him tightly. He looked down to see Fawkes, still in Harry's body, hugging him tightly.

"Fawkes… can't… breathe… Personal… space… needed… ouch!" This was yelped as Fawkes attempted to clamber to Albus's shoulder.

The boy looked a mixture of embarrassed and confused.

"I… I am sorry," murmured Fawkes, looking down. His arms and fingers moved slightly, as if trying to compensate for the wings and feathers that had been lost. "I… you seemed… distraught."

A surge of sympathy went through Albus.

His familiar had not asked for this either.

"I apologize, Fawkes." Albus placed his hand on the former bird's shoulder, making him look up. "We are all adjusting to this, but it does not give me the right to take my temper on you."

"You have nothing to apologize for." His eyes were kind and warm. "You have not eaten, have not been home. You should rest and eat."

A growl echoed through the office, Fawkes looking around fearfully.

Albus could not help but smile at the absurdity of it.

"It seems I am not the only one that needs to eat and rest. Sit. I'll have breakfast brought up for all of us."

"Could you… could you… fix this?" Fawkes looked hopefully at him, his gaze going towards the tiny chick and back to Albus imploringly. "I… I always wondered what it was like, to be human, but on the whole, I… I think I prefer my feathers."

There were chirps that seemed suspiciously like agreement from Harry.

"I wish I could," said Albus, meaning it.

He saw the pain on Fawkes's face. heard the mournful sound from Harry and felt regret. He should have stopped Harry from letting his temper get the better of him, should have used cushioning charms…

"No."

Fawkes said it firmly, the green eyes a blaze as he poked Albus in the chest hard.

"No, Guardian. Your self-loathing will not help. Stop that. This is not your fault."

"It seems your gift as my familiar has not gone away," said Albus. As Fawkes gave an embarrassed smile, Albus continued, "Why do you call me Guardian?"

"Because that's what you are." Fawkes looked baffled. "When I am reborn, it is you that I imprint on. When my feathers are itchy, you scratch and help remove them. You feed me and take care of me, what else would that make you?"

Albus thought this over. It was, he supposed, a valid point.

"You… imprint on me?" He thought of all of his habits and nuances.

Of all the things that Fawkes would have seen over the years, of what the phoenix could possibly think humans were like. Given that he was considered rather eccentric, Albus felt very worried indeed when Fawkes nodded.

For a long time, neither of them spoke. Even Harry had stopped chirping. Somewhere far beyond the office walls, the sound of voices could be heard. Staff and students heading down to the Great Hall for an early breakfast, perhaps, or meeting with others, even an early morning walk or last minute studying.

"I'll get us something to eat," said Albus quietly.

It was, he realized shortly, a good thing he had kept Fawkes in the office. The bird was inexperienced with hands and utensils, while Harry at least seemed to adjust quickly to pecking.

Fawkes lifted the fork, gripping it as a toddler would grip a training quill, and ate a bit of sausage. His eyes widened and he moaned in clear delight.

Albus stared.

"Wow," said Fawkes, touching his lips and looking in awe at the fork. He looked back at Albus, his eyes wide. "What is this?"

"Sausage?"

"It… it… my…" the boy touched his lips. "It… it stopped when I… I swallowed but… but… when I bit, it…"

Amusement flooded Albus. It was truly his familiar's first experiences with everything he took for granted. Seeing the astonishment, the wonder, it was a bit humbling and a simple reminder that he had experience while others… did not. And not remembering that could possibly cost him more in the future.

"It's called taste, Fawkes. We experience it when we eat."

"Taste." Fawkes breathed the word, nodding firmly. "I like taste."

With that he ate the rest of the sausage on the fork, closing his eyes with the utmost delight.

He opened his eyes to peer at Albus sternly.

"Don't fret, Guardian. We have survived much, all three of us." The boy indicated the two of them as well as Harry. "We will overcome this and make things right as well."

All Albus could do was wish he was as confident as his familiar seemed to be.


End file.
